


In the Aftermath

by gpr



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3435554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gpr/pseuds/gpr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all battles are fought on the battlefield. In the aftermath of Corypheus, the Inquisitor fights to keep the most powerful force in Thedas together. CullenxLavellan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Aftermath

In the Aftermath 

 

A/N: I’ve used my own character as the Inquisitor in this story, as it seeks to explore some of the more in-depth issues where a generalised Inquisitor would not do the story justice. This is intended to look at the main characters in Inquisition in sufficient depth. There will be original characters as well, and the story will extend to character beyond Inquisition, namely DA:O. With that in mind, enjoy!

 

She would die a god – or something akin to one – and it terrified him. Cassandra had said something to him a couple of months back about how they would be remembered in the years to come, how she worried that they wouldn’t be looked on in the most favourable light. He hadn’t said it at the time, but he’d shared some of that fear, and now… now, what? The immediate threat was over, and stability was beginning to seep back into Orlais and Ferelden. The Inquisition was coming to the end of its crusade. Yet it remained one of the most powerful forces Thedas had ever seen. It rivaled kingdoms – matched them soldier for soldier, and even held influence through its connections and its corruption. 

The bitterness was starting to seep in. Whispers spread through courts they had made allies and enemies with. The Game was afoot, and he worried they wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Cullen scratched the back of his neck. The low light from his candles made his eyes strain to read the parchment, and they were starting to hurt. He rubbed his temple, hoping it’d still some of the aching so he could get on and finish this already. Maker knows what time it was. He picked up the letter he’d been reading and held it closer to the light. Squinting, he gave up and threw it back on the desk. Mia would have to do with yet another scribbled letter assuring his safety, there were more pressing matters to attend to… like sleep. He rolled his neck a grimaced at the clicking of his bones. Yes, sleep sounded good.

“Commander?”

“Oh for the love of the Maker, what is it now?” He snapped at the messenger stood in his now open doorway. 

“It’s a report from Denerim. From the Inquisitor herself, Ser.” 

Not bothering to even stand to receive it, Cullen held out a hand.

“Nothing else to report?”

“No, Ser.”

“Good. I’m turning in for the night so if anything else arises it will simply have to be dealt with in the morning. Unless it’s urgent.”

“Urgent, Ser?”

Cullen looked up from the roll of paper that had been placed in his hand, and scowled, “Life and death. The world is being torn apart by a magister darkspawn. That sort of thing. That will be all, Ferris.”

Messenger Ferris sheepishly saluted and walked out.

Even though he himself was growing tired with the largely tedious political ventures the Inquisition had to do of late, he chastised himself for being so curt. The initial triumph of victory had worn off, and the mood at Skyhold had shifted with it. The tension was starting to show, and his soldiers were growing restless. Beyond relief efforts and chasing after bandits, there was little for them to do at the moment. He’d noticed it – the growing unease – about a month after Corypheus’ defeat. The Inquisitor was being called out to social and political calls more and more, and whilst she was growing steadily more au fait with it, he knew what it meant. They all did. The Inquisition was to be dismantled, as was always intended, and likely never called upon again.

It didn’t sit right with him anymore. He doubted it did with most of the Inquisition. Initially, its disbanding had been the right thing to do, but now… now things were different. The void the Inquisition would leave could force another power struggle – whether that would be to do with Ferelden or Orlais, or even something else – he wasn’t entirely sure.

Pulling off the ribbon around the report, he unrolled it, and began to read.

Commander Cullen,  
Our meeting with King Alistair has been insightful.

Never a good sign.

Most of our talks, as I am sure you are well aware, were on the state of the Inquisition, and the appointment of Leliana as the new Devine. I am afraid that I cannot divulge more beyond this, it is too much information to simply put in one report, and is something that is best debated in person. I’ve already made the necessary arrangements for my party to travel back to Skyhold. This letter should succeed me by a few days at best. I am looking forward to being home again,  
Yours,   
Inquisitor Santiel Lavellan 

Ever the professional. He wondered if she had put “I am looking forward to being home again” just for him. Home. When did she start referring to Skyhold like that? He rifled through some of the papers on his desk on the vague chance he had left one of her previous letters there. No. He looked over the one in his hand again. “Yours”. She only ever ended letters to him like that. He’d seen some for Cass and Dorian before now, and they’d only ever ended with her title. He smiled, before putting it in his desk draw undoing the straps on his armour. Hopefully he’d get more than a few hours sleep.

#

“Look, we’ll sort something out.”

“How?” Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t something we can get out of so easily, Santiel.”

“Never said it would be easy. Far from it. But not impossible.” The Inquisitor pulled off her sopping boot and flung it to the far side of the tent. The Seeker’s eyes followed its trajectory, and scowled all the more for it.

“Well, we all know how you and the impossible skip hand-in-hand.” A voice piped up.

“Yes, thank you Dorian.” Cassandra replied.

“Pleasure. Now if you don’t mind, all this talking’s made for a good sedative.”

“Yeah, I’m turning in too.” Bull pulled up the tent flap and gestured for Dorian to exit first, “Night Boss.”

“Night guys.” 

Both women were silent for a moment. Another boot flew across the space of the tent. 

“Ugh. Would you stop that? You’re getting everything wet.”

“Sorry.”

“So…” the warrior began, watching as her companion stripped down to her undergarments and perched on the end of her bed.

Santiel raised an eyebrow, “What?”

“Are we going to talk about it?”

“What? Cullen?” the Inquisitor ran a hand over her face, “It’s not going to happen.”

“But you know that’s what Alistair wants.”

“And what does Leliana want?”

“Leliana doesn’t have much choice, being Devine.” Cassandra started to remove her own armour.

“Still, we have some sway over her, no?”

“You know how she is. If you try and play underhanded with her she’ll simply do it back to you. You are an assassin. You two think too alike.”

“We’re not the same.”

“All I’m saying is you’re unlikely to surprise her.”

“Will she fight us on the disbanding of the Inquisition, Cass? That’s what I want to know.”

“I believe so. Her hands are tied. The Inquisition has served its purpose as far as the Chantry is concerned.”

“And the King of Ferelden?”

“He has no power over us. His hinting that Cullen would be suited to the position of Commander of the Ferelden army is merely that – hinting. Though I think it frightens him… or rather, his court. They are merely trying to plant doubt.”

Santiel grimaced. “What would you do?”

“Realistically? I don’t think there is much we can do. To use force to keep ourselves as an institution could force another war. On the other hand, to back down would leave a power vacuum. If we are not fighting someone, they would simply be fighting amongst themselves.”

“Do you think it’s ridiculous to keep the Inquisition?”

Cassandra hesitated, instead focusing on folding her clothes and laying them at the foot of her bed. “I… if you had asked me that question at the start of all of this, I would have answered yes, but now… the Inquisition has grown in power beyond anything I thought possible. And yet it was necessary to stand against Corypheus – we needed that influence.”

It was a question Santiel had been asking herself for months now: what happens now? She couldn’t fade into obscurity anymore… not like Solas. She’d lost that luxury when she’d picked up that damned orb. Her clan were unlikely to accept her back with open arms. Reluctantly, maybe, but they’d never view her the same, having cosied up to one too many Shems. So that only left her with Shems, and there was no hope in hell she’d end up in one of those blasted alienages. It was unlikely, though, given her prophet-like status amongst Andrastrians. Grey Warden? She’d gotten pretty proficient at killing dragons recently, but she had a feeling Cullen would kill her himself before she even got the chance of killing an archdemon. 

Cullen. The man made everything more difficult than it had to be. If he wasn’t… if she hadn’t… she could have just become a Grey Warden and done some good in the world without all this political nonsense. The Inquisition would be disbanded and in the ensuing chaos she could have met a valiant end. Santiel hadn’t expected to grow close to the people the Inquisition (or rather, Cassandra) had thrown together. Her initial open hostility had softened. Shem gave way to human, which gave way to him and her. Away from the Dalish influence, she wasn’t sure if she’d lost part of her identity or discovered part she didn’t know was there. 

“We need to be clever about this.” Cassandra’s words brought her back from the depths of her own thoughts. “This is more than some silly little Orlesian court ‘game’, Santiel. It is bigger. Far bigger. Instead of one country, we’re playing with three. We have to be sly. Under their noses. It’s times like this when I really wish Leliana were here.”

“If she was, you wouldn’t be.”

Cassandra paused, smiling at the Inquisitor, “No… you’re right. I wouldn’t be.”

“Maybe some things are for the best?”

“Yes. Maybe they are.”

For a minute, whilst they were lying in their separate bunks, they forgot about everything else. It was only when she was at the edge of falling asleep that the fear about what they had to achieve hit Santiel in the gut, and no amount of solace she had found in having her friend there instead of an advisor could shake that feeling of dread.

#

“Shit!”

Usually Cassandra was a deep sleeper. She didn’t wake for much, unless she was shaken awake or there was some sort of impending danger – she had a sixth sense for that kind of thing. So, when she heard the Inquisitor’s curse of shock in the small confines of their tent, she immediately threw herself from her bunk and dived for the closest weapon she could find.

Disorientated by such an abrupt awakening, Cassandra lay, her hips and legs still on her bed, and her torso on the cold, hard floor, with weapon in hand, and attempted to swing around the entrance to the tent. She half expected someone to be looming over them from the flaps, ready to slit their throats before they could even scream. Or for there to be a bright, orange light outside as bandits set fire to the camp. Instead, there was nothing.

Now even more confused, she squinted through the dark to where the Herald’s bed lay parallel to hers, and waited for her eyes to adjust. 

“The fuck Santiel?”

In the darkness all she could make out was her friend’s lithe shape, tangled in blankets, and breathing deeply.

“Shit. I didn’t even… we need to get back to Skyhold, immediately.”


End file.
